


A Prickly Mission

by JantoJones



Series: Further Brief Briefings [21]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	A Prickly Mission

“You are a man to be admired, Illya Nickovitch.”

Illya looked to his partner and narrowed his eyes in question. Napoleon had a habit of addressing him in many different ways, such as ‘IK’, ‘Partner’, or most often ‘Tovarisch’, which was something he was quite used to. It was unknown, however, for him to use the formal way of address favoured by those from Slavic nations. Illya realised that the CEA was trying to butter him up, and he also knew why. He had no doubt that the next few minutes were not going to go well for him.

“What is it about me which you so admire, Mr Solo?” Illya replied, with equal formality.

“Well,” Napoleon began, putting his hands on the other man’s shoulders, in a disconcertingly friendly manner. “I admire the way you always do your duty, no matter what the circumstances. I admire the way you are willing to risk injury, and even death, to gain a satisfactory outcome to a mission. Most of all, I admire how little you care about damaging your attire while on a mission.”

For several long, chilly seconds, Illya said nothing. He fixed Napoleon with steely glare.

“If you want me to fetch the package from out of the blackberry thicket,” he said, in a dangerously low tone. “Then simply say so.”

“I want you to fetch the package from out of the blackberry thicket,” Solo echoed, with just a little too much relish.

Illya briefly thought about arguing, but knew he would lose in the long run. He reached into his pocket for his leather gloves, before remembering they were in his desk drawer, in his office. He demanded the loan of Napoleon’s, only to be told he’d lost them.

With a sigh which promised that words would be exchanged later, Illya pushed his way into the prickly bush, which was heavily laden with fruit. Neither man had questioned why the courier had left the package where he had, as they had been on much more difficult retrievals. This didn’t stop Illya from silently cursing the man as his clothing was snagged and ripped, and his hands and face were scratched by prickles.

Illya’s mood was already darkening when he lost his footing and fell against the branches. His hands pressed against a wall, which was barely visible behind the thicket, causing several blackberries to burst and coat his skin with the purple juice within. With a loud curse in his native language, Illya grabbed the package and fought his way back out of the bush.

He thrust the package at Napoleon, causing the juice which had transferred from his hands to the paper, to smear over the man’s crisp, white shirt. Illya then placed a hand on each of Solo’s shoulders, echoing Napoleon’s earlier move, and announced that his mission was complete. As Illya headed back to the car, Napoleon was left wondering if his dry cleaner could remove purple handprints from his light grey suit.


End file.
